


Goodnight Kiss (England x Reader)

by katemoon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Falling In Love, Festivals, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Ice Skating, Kissing, Laundry, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Male-Female Friendship, Misunderstandings, Poetry, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespearean Sonnets, Tension, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemoon/pseuds/katemoon
Summary: What starts as a day out to the winter festival with Arthur and Francis ends with an unexpected development.
Relationships: England & France (Hetalia), England (Hetalia)/Reader, France (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Enjoying the View

“Uh-oh...”  
  
“What is it, _mon ami_?”  
  
“Uh...” You looked down at the ground, embarrassed for him. You weren’t sure you wanted to tell him, but you did anyway, “You...seem to have sat in some gum...”  
  
“ _Qua_?” Francis twisted to try and get a view of his backside, but couldn’t quite get a good look.  
  
 _Urgh, this is awkward_. You were actually quite surprised at how calm he was. You would have thought he’d be scandalized that his clothing had been soiled. Not wanting to force him to walk around all day with gum stuck to his butt, you said, “You know what, I don’t live too far away, and I’m pretty sure we could get that cleaned up and still make it back in time.”  
  
He flashed you a radiant smile, “ _Merci_. Whatever would I do wizout you?”  
  
“Probably be forever tagged with the name ‘Bubble-butt.’” You glanced at the people around them and said, “I’ll walk behind you so no one sees.” You took his shoulders and started pushing him in the direction of your house, “Let’s hurry though. I don’t want to miss this.”  
  
He was still smiling pleasantly, but he didn’t say anything as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued to walk, his long legs making those long, swinging strides you’d never been able to keep up with.  
  
His obvious pleasure in finding out where you lived suddenly made you kick yourself. _What in the world am I doing? Who knows what weird things he’ll start doing if he knows where I live?_ But you had only been a couple of blocks away to begin with, and before you could change your mind you were already at the front door. He leaned against the wall as you fumbled with your keys nervously, cursing your clumsiness and considering just leaving him outside just for standing there and smiling at you the way he was.  
  
Finally you got the door open and he followed you inside, closing the door behind himself. Before he could take a step into your house, you threw your arms up to block him, “You are restricted to exactly two rooms: the kitchen and the bathroom.”  
  
Then you turned to walk into the kitchen to grab the dawn soap. While you were rummaging under the kitchen sink for it, you said, “I’ll lend you some sweatpants,” you found the bottle and turned on your knees to find him right behind you, “and you can change in the—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” you shrieked, falling back on your butt and dropping the bottle. Francis had undone his belt and was in the process of unzipping as he smirked down at you, “Oh, _amor_ , zere iz no need for you to be like zat. We are alone, after all.”  
  
You squeaked and clapped your hands over your eyes, not knowing what else to do. He chuckled as he stripped and set the pants and the dawn soap on the counter. You cautiously peeked out at him from behind your fingers when you heard him take a seat at the kitchen table and were scarred with the image of him reclining on a kitchen chair with his French-flag-sock-clad feet propped up on the table and his head propped up with one hand. He smirked at your blushing face, “Enjoying ze view?”  
  
You snatched the pants and the soap and turned your back to him, the image of his black briefs and long, naked legs forever burned into your retinas. You considered gouging your eyes out and washing them with dawn instead.  
  
You managed to get the gum out without too much trouble, all the while a dark cloud of embarrassment continued to hover over you. Francis continued to watch you with his smiling face propped up.  
  
At this point, he didn’t mind if you made it back in time or not. He didn’t even mind if the only thing he got tonight was the opportunity to watch you as you scrubbed at the kitchen sink. You really had no idea how truly adorable you were, or what a lovely figure you had. He watched the curve of your hips sway back and forth with the motion of your scrubbing, a secret, silent smile on his lips.  
  
Presently, you held the pants up and nodded your satisfaction that the gum was out, “I think that should do it. I’ll just throw these in the dryer for a few minutes and then we can go.”  
  
You had intended to make your escape into the hallway where the washer and dryer were while keeping your eyes carefully trained on the ceiling, but suddenly Francis had his arms around you from behind and he was nuzzling your neck, “ _Merci, mon petit_ ,” he murmured in your ear.  
  
You felt like you’d just been stuck with a cattle prod, and a shocked chill shivered from your toes all the way to the top of your head. The tickly hair of his legs were pressed to yours, and you found yourself wishing now that you had worn long pants instead of tights. You tried to shake him off, “What the heck are you doing?! Get off!”  
  
But Francis wasn’t listening, and he simply chuckled under his breath and tightened his arms around you.  
  
That was when the doorbell rang.  
  
The unexpected interruption took Francis by surprise, which gave you the opportunity to break away and dash for the front door. Your hope of escaping halted like a slap in the face the moment you opened the front door. It was Arthur.  
  
“Oh helllll–o...” You couldn’t even think of anything to say to him, but now your heart was pounding even harder.  
  
“Well, lovely to see you too,” he smirked slightly, “Sorry for dropping by unannounced,” he suddenly smiled nervously, “Are you busy tonight?”  
  
“What?” you felt breathless. You hoped your face wasn’t too red.  
  
“Well, I mean, there’s a festival going on in the park, and I was thinking that it would be more fun if I went with–” he stopped abruptly and his eyes focused sharply on something behind you, an angry squall suddenly darkening his face.  
  
You already knew what was wrong before you even turned around. Francis stood in the hallway, still in his underwear and grinning triumphantly at Arthur.  
  
You squeaked again and suddenly jumped to hide behind Arthur, “Will you put your pants on already?” You clung to the back of Arthur’s shirt and begged, “Please do something, he’s been tormenting me!”  
  
Arthur was rigid and didn’t even look at you; partly because he was a bit awkward, but the other and more important reason was because his entire being was wild with jealousy. Why had you allowed this Frenchman into your home, and yet you had as of yet to invite him inside? Had Francis barged in on you and tried to attack you? Or worse, had you invited him in?  
  
“Arthur?” You shook him slightly by his jacket, but he suddenly felt angry with you. What had you been doing with the frog anyway? Was this who you had been with all day? You’d told him you would be out shopping today. Had you lied? Were you embarrassed to tell him about some budding relationship between you and Francis? Or did you think he was too stupid to understand?  
  
Arthur was trembling with fury now. What did he care? You were nothing but a silly little girl anyway. He didn’t care about the foolish affections of some gawky country girl. If you were stupid enough to fall for the tricks of that womanizing cheese-eater, fine. Francis could have you with his blessing.  
  
By this point, you had crept out from behind Arthur - completely oblivious to Francis now - to peer up into his face, “Are you okay? Your face is a little red.” You reached to feel his forehead but Arthur immediately swatted your hand away, and suddenly he had plunged through your front door and thrown a sharp jab to the Frenchman’s face, giving him a bloody nose.  
  
You watched, stunned, as the two men rolled around just inside the door, punching, biting, kicking, swearing, and pulling one another’s hair. You finally shook yourself out of your shock and dove in after them to try and break up the fight, only succeeding when you got caught in the scuffle and were knocked back into the wall where you bumped your head and cried out more from surprise than pain.  
  
Both men ceased fighting immediately at your cry. Francis looked guilty, but Arthur looked positively stricken. The thought that something he had done - that _anything_ he had done - might have hurt you tore at his insides. To make matters worse, Francis cut him off just as he was saying, “________! I’m so--” and took your hands and said, “ _Merde! Je suis desole_ , ________! All you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine, you twit!” You growled, getting to your feet, “Okay, that’s enough. Francis, go put your pants back on before I cut off your favorite appendage.”  
  
Francis blanched.  
  
“And Arthur,” you turned to him to deliver another helping of your wrath, but you softened when you noticed that he’d sustained a well-aimed blow to his eye, which even now was beginning to darken and swell. Your voice softened as you extended a hand to him, “Come with me.”  
  
Arthur looked up at you uncertainly, feeling increasingly ridiculous for letting his temper get the better of him, but took your hand and reluctantly followed you. The three of you assembled in the kitchen, but when it only took a few seconds before the two men were slinging insults again, you told Arthur to go sit in the living room and wait.  
  
In the kitchen, Francis (at last wearing his pants again) washed his bloody nose in the sink. You briefly looked at it and concluded that it wasn’t broken and that he would be fine before returning to the makeshift ice pack you were assembling out of a frozen bag of peas and a dishtowel.  
  
“Okay, now just sit in here for a minute and cool off. I’m going to go check on Arthur.”  
  
Arthur was sitting uncomfortably on your sofa with his hands between his knees. It was obvious that he wanted nothing more than to leave, but for whatever reason, he had chosen to stay for the time being. He glanced at you when you came into the room, but didn’t raise his head and quickly returned his gaze to his shoes.  
  
You stood and watched him for a moment, trying to calm your fluttering heart before you went over to him. Even when you stood right in front of him he didn’t raise his head to look at you. He didn’t dare to, for fear that you might see what he had kept so carefully hidden all this time.  
  
When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to look at you, you sighed and knelt in front of him, crossing your arms over his knees and looking up into his face. The slightly pink dusting on his cheeks darkened, and he avoided your eyes.  
  
You reached up and pushed the hair away from his eye where it had definitely begun to swell and brought the ice pack up to it. Arthur winced slightly, but he finally met your eye when you did this and mumbled, “I’m sorry for behaving like that in your home. You know how I get around that bloody frog.”  
  
The ghost of a smile hinted around the corners of your mouth, “What I’m curious about is what exactly set you off like that.”  
  
Something in Arthur’s eyes hardened and he looked away again, “It’s nothing.”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
Arthur said nothing.  
  
You sighed and patted his knee, getting to your feet again and then taking a seat next to him on the sofa and dropping your head back. He kept the ice pack applied to his eye and leaned back on the couch to do the same.  
  
After a few more moments of silence, you said, “Wanna know a secret?”  
  
“Hm?” He turned his head slightly so he could see your eyes.  
  
“Whatever it was that made you snap like that, the way you went all gung-ho on Francis like that was...pretty hot.”  
  
Your eyes met briefly, and you looked away quickly. Arthur stared at you. You always made him think one thing about how you felt, but then you would turn around and make comments like that that would leave him puzzling over them for days.  
  
There were so many moments your eyes would meet or there was some subtle touch or teasing words between you that left him more and more confused each time of how you felt about him.  
  
What was he supposed to make of this comment now? Were you implying that you genuinely found him attractive, or had you just been trying to make him laugh?  
  
He suddenly wondered what you would do if he held your hand. Glancing down, he could see it was only a few inches from his own, and his fingers itched to reach out and touch you.  
  
He never got around to working up the courage to try, however, because it was at that exact moment that Francis came into the room and caught a fleeting glimpse of Arthur staring at you and you looking away blushing before you both looked up at him. It had been as quick as a flash of lightning, but Francis had seen all of what he had begun to suspect for some time now.  
  
You seemed somehow put out and yet relieved at the same time, “I thought I told you to wait in the kitchen.”  
  
“ _Oui_ , but we are missing ze festival!” Even as he spoke, Francis was concocting up a new scheme as he took in the two nervous young people and smiled to himself. He knew all too well what was going on, and he also knew that if he played his cards right, he could ensure that it was him and not Arthur whom you would fall for.  
  
“Oh, that’s right!” You jumped to your feet, “I completely forgot. Let’s hurry over there.” You grabbed Arthur’s hand, sending tingles shooting up his arm, “Come on, we can all go together.”  
  
“I’ll pass.” Arthur glared at the Frenchman, who returned the glare with a smirk.  
  
“Well, you can’t just stay here by yourself.”  
  
“I’ll go home, then.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, you dunce. I meant you can’t just bum around doing nothing all night. Anyway, didn’t you come here to ask me to go with you in the first place?”  
  
Arthur’s cheeks burned with furious embarrassment, “I’ve suddenly lost my taste for it. All this smell of wine and cheese has put me off.” He stood, “I’m going home.”  
  
He didn’t make it two steps before you had him by the ear, “You seem to have forgotten something, Artie dear,” you used the loathsome nickname he always refused to respond to, “You owe me.”  
  
“I owe you?” He demanded incredulously.  
  
“For the disgusting way you and Francis both behaved a few minutes ago in my home.”  
  
Arthur narrowed his eyes, silently, stubbornly refusing.  
  
You suddenly let your face fall and you touched the back of your hair, “My head kind of hurts, you know.”  
  
And with that, you had won. There was no argument to be had. They had both hurt you, and now they had to pay for it. When you could see in Arthur’s deflated features that you had won, you hurriedly grabbed his hand, threw your other arm through Francis’ elbow, and marched the boys out of your house toward the festival.


	2. Slow Dancing in the Snow

Miraculously, the boys remained on their best behavior at the festival, and after only a few minutes of games and exploring the vendors’ stalls, all three of you were genuinely enjoying yourselves.  
  
When you got to the ice rink around the bandstand, you suddenly found that you wished that you and Arthur could be alone, just for a few minutes while you were ice skating, but you hated the idea of getting rid of Francis by sending him under false pretenses to get you a cup of cocoa.  
  
As it happened, you didn’t have to think up any clever ideas. The moment you approached the bandstand, Francis suddenly asked if there was a bathroom anywhere nearby, “ _Ou est l’toilette_?”  
  
“I think there’s one in that direction,” you pointed, “but it’s a little way down there. Do you want us to wait for you?”  
  
Francis, not fond of the idea of making you wait in the cold while he went to pee shook his head. “ _Non, non_ , you go a’ead, I won’t be long.”  
  
You almost cheered as he jogged away, and you turned to Arthur, dimpling. “Shall we?”  
  
Arthur suddenly wished he could somehow tuck his face into his scarf like a snapping turtle to hide the small smile that worked its way onto his face.  
  
You had forgotten to bring your gloves in your haste to get the boys out of your house, and now you sorely regretted it as the bitter cold nipped at your red fingers as you held your arms out for balance.  
  
A little kid darted in front of you and you jerked to avoid knocking him down, only to slip and fall yourself. Arthur caught you at the last second under your arms, and for the first time all day, he laughed out loud.  
  
Laughing yourself, you turned and held onto his arms, your cheeks glowing. Your breath clouded around your faces as you smiled at each other, and then Arthur noticed your near-frozen fingers. “Where are your gloves?”  
  
“Oh, I forgot to grab them.”  
  
“Well, that won’t do. Here, take mine.”  
  
You began to protest as he removed his own gloves and started putting them on you. “But then _your_ hands will freeze.”  
  
“Nonsense, I’ll just keep them in my pockets.”  
  
“And what if you fall?” You were starting to have a more difficult time refusing the gloves. They were warm from his hands.  
  
Arthur smiled. “I never fall.”  
  
“Okay, but if you do, I’ll catch you.”  
  
Arthur obligingly tucked his hands into his coat pockets and held out his elbow for you to hold onto. You skated like that for a minute or so, but then Arthur said he wanted to teach you how to spin, and took you by the hands and showed you how to use your momentum to spin both of you in a circle.  
  
You squealed nervously and Arthur laughed at you, egging you on every time you slipped or teetered. There was a brief moment when the two of you paused, puffing and grinning, both with glowing eyes, when suddenly, that same hapless little boy who had cut you off earlier plowed into you at full speed from behind and you pitched forward straight into Arthur.  
  
While it was true that he never lost his balance, that didn’t include occasions when a body was propelled into him at full force, and he went down hard on his back with you crashing down on top of him.  
  
After the initial surprise of the fall and registering that neither of them were hurt, you suddenly found yourself staring into Arthur’s face and blushing hard. There was no way to hide your racing heartbeat now, and you felt your chest tighten as your breath caught.  
  
Arthur was holding you slightly away from himself by the arms, but for a moment, you could swear you saw the same expression in his eyes that you felt in your own.  
  
Too quickly, Arthur pushed you off of him onto the ice and got to his feet. It took him a moment to remember to reach down and help you to your feet as well. He quickly tucked his hands back into his pockets, avoiding your eyes and muttered, “That bloody little urchin. Next time I’ll trip him.”  
  
He glanced at you and reached out to brush some of the snow off of your coat, and then sighed, “I suppose we’d better go see where that frog got to.”  
  
You agreed, but when you both had your own shoes on again, the band on the bandstand began to play _I Love You Truly_. Just when Arthur had turned to go, you grabbed his arm impulsively. “Wait.”  
  
He turned to you with his eyebrows raised questioningly.  
  
“I love this song. Let’s just listen to this song first, and then we’ll go.” A light snow started to fall.  
  
“You don’t have to ask me twice. I’d rather do anything than go looking for that cheese-eater.”  
  
You grinned at each other and then turned to look at the twinkling lights on the bandstand. It was a different arrangement from the traditional version, and you found yourself stepping subtly to the 1-2-3 count of the waltz. Some of the more daring couples in the immediate area around the bandstand began to waltz, and after discreetly glancing around, Arthur turned to you and bowed only half-jokingly. “May I have this dance?”  
  
“Why Arthur, I had no idea you could be such a gentleman.” You smirked.  
  
“It wouldn’t be decent for a gentleman to leave a lady without a dance partner.”  
  
You laughed and took his hand, and the two of you began to twirl.  
  
Arthur had always been the best at the waltz, but at the moment, he found himself feeling really quite clumsy. Were he not so madly in love with you, he might have noticed the effect he was having on you.  
  
You moved as though in a daze, and murmured teasing words that sounded like drunken cursive slurs. Any idiot with an outside perspective could see that you were completely swept off your feet. Of course, it was at this precise moment that Francis finally found you again.  
  
Francis was not, of course, oblivious to the twinkle in both Arthur and your eyes, nor was he particularly pleased about it.  
  
“ _Pardon moi_! It is _my_ job to ask for ze first dance! Arthur, you little thief,” he clucked his tongue at the Brit and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
You smiled at him apologetically, secretly upset by the interruption. “Sorry, it’s my fault. We were coming to look for you, but then they started playing this song, and I couldn’t resist…”  
  
Francis turned to pudding for your sake. “Oh, but if it was _your_ idea, zen of course I must forgive you.” But then he took a firm hold of your hand and tugged you out of Arthur’s grasp. “But I must insist zat you let me cut in.”  
  
“O-okay…” You threw an apologetic look at Arthur and stuck out your lip over Francis’ shoulder when he couldn’t see. Arthur had a puzzled look on his face as Francis spun you farther and farther away from him. By this point, _I Love You Truly_ had ended, and _I’ll Be Seeing You_ started playing.  
  
After a while, Francis slowed and drew you a little closer, resting his cheek on your head. You weren’t exactly surprised that he had done this. Ever since the day you’d first met him, Francis had been trying to get into your pants. Whether or not he actually had feelings for you had always been a mystery.  
  
But any ideas you might have entertained about having feelings for Francis had all flown away when you met Arthur. It had been at a work party Francis had invited you to. Arthur and Francis worked together, but their relationship had always been what you would call ‘rocky.’ You had noticed that their rivalry seemed to be more intense lately. It made you wonder if something was happening at work to cause it.  
  
“You and Arthur seem to be getting along well,” Francis murmured.  
  
You smiled and lowered your head a little, but you didn’t offer any response. Francis tried again, “‘as ‘e confessed ‘is undying love for you yet? Or ‘as ‘is stiff English manner forced ‘im to bite ‘is tongue?”  
  
To this, you did respond, “Francis, what’s this really about? Is it a competition between you two or something?”  
  
Francis pulled his head back enough to look you in the face and flash you one of his small, charming smiles. “Ze attentions of a beautiful woman are always ze means for competition between ze likes of Arthur and I.”  
  
You smiled, but you knew that Arthur would be the last sort of person to think of love as a competition. But, their rivalry was starting to become more clear to you now. The sudden increase in invitations to parties and events from the both of them; texts; phone calls. Once, Arthur had even gone so far as to ask for your help in deciding what Shakespeare sonnet to read at a wedding he was attending.  
  
You remembered that night very well. Music had been playing in the background; whether Arthur had chosen it and strategically had it playing or had just forgotten about it, you didn’t know. There had been a fire blazing in the hearth, and he had paced about the room while you sat on his sofa with a mug of tea, listening to him as he read to you from the sonnets he had selected.  
  
You remembered one in particular when his eyes had left the page and he looked up at you as he spoke. He had seemed to recite it from memory as he looked at you,  
  
 _“To me, fair friend, you never can be old,  
For as you were when first your eye I ey’d,  
Such seems your beauty still…”_  
  
He had paused for a moment then as he watched you. You remembered the look in his eyes that you hadn’t quite been able to read.  
  
Francis pulled you back to the present as he spoke again, “But I simply must know, _mon petit_. What iz going on between your and Arthur?”  
  
“Francis, you know perfectly well there’s nothing going on.” _Although I wish there was._  
  
“Eh, now, I know a spark when I see it.”  
  
“Well, then you’re imagining things. Arthur doesn’t think of me that way.”  
  
Francis was secretly pleased by this. Arthur really had been hiding his feelings from you then, if you thought that, and that put Francis at an advantage. “Zen why waste any more time pining over ‘im, eh? Move on with someone ‘ou can make you forget about ‘im.”  
  
 _Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds..._  
  
You stopped dancing then, and Francis looked down at you curiously. He saw the pained expression on your face, and as you turned your eyes up to him, he saw clearly for the first time that he had already lost any chance of winning you long ago.  
  
“Ah…” He smiled sadly. “You’re in love with ‘im, aren’t you?”  
  
You looked away, unwilling to answer.  
  
 _Or bends with the remover to remove…_  
  
Francis saw the fear in your face—the pain of unrequited love you had lived with for so long now, and he smiled knowingly as he spoke, “Tell ‘im, _mon ami_. Tell ‘im tonight.”  
  
When you looked up into Francis’ eyes fearfully, he took you by the shoulders and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled back again he squeezed your shoulders reassuringly. “Go to ‘im, _mon fleur_. ‘e iz waiting for you.”  
  
And then with a slight bow, Francis turned and walked away from you, disappearing into the crowd. You watched him go for a moment and then turned to look at Arthur. It was only then that you realized how hard you were trembling. As his eyes met yours over the distance between you, you wondered if you had the courage to walk to him, let alone tell him what was in your heart.


	3. An Ever-Fixed Mark

Arthur stood back watching you and Francis dance. Part of him couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to tear you out of Francis’ arms and carry you away. Another part of him wanted to walk away from the scene rather than stay and watch. There were moments, this being one of them, when he sincerely wished he didn’t love you. He wished he could use your friendship with Francis to dismiss his feelings. But oh, that was no good. As he watched you smiling up at Francis while you talked and danced, he knew that nothing could change the way he felt. And then, as he stood watching you, he murmured to himself,  
  
 _“O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,  
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken…”_  
  
And as he watched Francis bend down to kiss you on the forehead at the end of the song, he knew that no matter how much it pained him, there was no tempest on earth that could shake him into walking away tonight, and no force on earth that could stop him from loving you.  
  
He was a little surprised when Francis turned and walked away after the song had ended, and briefly, he wondered where he was going. Arthur watched you as you watched Francis leave, and then you turned and your eyes met. Arthur could think of exactly three occasions in his life in which he had forgotten how to breathe. The first had been the day he came home to find his younger brother, Alfred, had moved out of their apartment after an enormous fight without so much as a goodbye. The second had been the first (and last) time he’d ever gone parachuting, thanks to Alfred’s insistence when they had made up with one another again. And looking at you now, perhaps a hundred feet away, this was the third.  
  
And as you started to walk toward him, he felt the pounding of his heart booming in his chest. It was all he could do to stand his ground and not run to you like a total fool.  
  
**********  
  
When you reached him, you held out his gloves to him. “Here.” And as he took them from you, you said, “It’s getting late. Would you mind walking me home?”  
  
Arthur was disappointed that you didn’t want to stay and spend more time with him, but you were right, it was nine-thirty. The two of you started to make your way through the crowd, but keeping together began to prove rather difficult as you fought your way through hoards of people. After getting separated twice, Arthur reached back and took your hand from your coat pocket. Not wanting your fingers to get cold, he tucked your hand into his own pocket, and to himself he allowed the smallest smile to curl up the corners of his mouth.  
  
There was no need to conceal the grin on your own face, thanks to the fact that you were a step behind him, but you ducked your head and bit your lip anyway, despite this. Eventually, the two of you made it out of the park and began walking down the road to your house. You talked of simple, unimportant things. He asked you where Francis had gone off to, and you lied, saying Francis had needed to go home for the night for some reason.  
  
You talked about work and the upcoming holidays, both of you tentatively probing to see if the other might be available for Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve. Arthur made a comment about Francis and his Christmas traditions that made you laugh, and suddenly the two of you were laughing and making jokes together about anything and everything. It was much too soon when you suddenly realized that you were standing in front of your house and that the two of you had to part ways now.  
  
Arthur still had your hand tucked into his pocket, and you hoped that he might hold onto it just a little bit longer as you shuffled your feet, trying desperately to think of something more to say to keep him a little bit longer. You broke out into a sweat as you considered taking Francis’ advice to tell Arthur what you felt, and your heart began to pound again as Arthur walked you up to the door.  
  
It was the worst doorstep scene you had ever known, but this time it wasn’t because you didn’t want to kiss a guy goodnight. This time it was for an entirely different reason. After a brief pause, Arthur removed your hand from his coat pocket, kissed it politely, and started walking down the steps away from you. He hadn’t lingered or waited at all – hadn’t even given you the chance to say anything. The thought that he might never drop you off at your door like this again suddenly sent you into a panic. What if you never had an opportunity like this with him again?  
  
“Arthur!” you nearly shouted, your voice desperate.   
  
He stopped and turned to look at you. “Yes, love?”  
  
You couldn’t find words. You stood frozen with your mouth half-open, looking at him – the unspoken request in your eyes. He gazed back at you for a long time, very cautiously reading what he saw in the eyes of the girl at the top of the stairs, almost afraid to believe what he saw there.   
  
With his heart thudding in his chest, he resolved to take a chance and started walking again – this time determinedly back up the stairs.  
  
Your heart jumped into your throat as he climbed nearer and nearer, and at last, he stopped on the step below you, gazing up into your face. Your breath came out shaky, and for several moments you couldn’t move. With trembling fingers you raised your hands to his head and gently stroked back his hair, coming to rest at the back of his neck. He watched you silently, all the while simply trying to work up his courage.   
  
Finally, he reached out and took you into his arms in the same dance position as before, only this time he held you close and lifted you off of your feet, spinning you around and making you laugh, all of the giddiness easing for a moment until he set you down.   
  
Holding each other by the arms, he quietly rested his forehead against yours, your eyelashes tickling his cheek. He listened to your breathing, felt the quickening of your pulse. He knew this was the right moment. All this time, all the looks and whispers, teasings, touches, walks, and talks – all of it had led to this moment.  
  
Parting his lips and sighing, he turned his head, leaned in, and at long, long last, he finally kissed you.  
  
It was better than either of you had ever imagined it would be. All your life, you had thought that kissing Arthur would set off fireworks, but this was different – it was much better. Everything about the kiss – everything about him – was soft and sweet, and when he pulled away, he paused for a moment, and then whispered, “Goodnight.”  
  
You could only nod. The shaking and the pounding heart had somehow disappeared and were replaced with a weightless buoyancy that left no room for words. He stepped down again, still holding one of your hands, and met your eyes again. And then he couldn’t resist stepping up and kissing you again before turning to go, only to have you pull him back for just one more kiss punctuated with your giddy laughter.  
  
“Goodnight.” You covered your mouth with your hand as you laughed softly, your eyes glowing.  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
He watched you with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you unlocked your door, still smiling from ear to ear as you stole glances at him until you stepped inside and turned to wave.   
  
“Goodnight,” you said again.  
  
“Goodnight.” He smiled in return, feeling a mixture of triumph and elation. You finally closed the door, your eyes sparkling, and leaned back against it, sighing and sliding down to the floor.  
  
Arthur stood for a moment looking at the closed door, his own face alight with a smile before he finally turned and headed for home with a new swing in his step, whistling as he walked.


End file.
